He is the best

This morning one woke up with the lingering effects of a shocking migraine that started last night. In fact one probably looked quite pathetic, as one huddled near the computer clutching coffee. A state that may have prompted Him to ask are you still planning on getting new running shoes? For a minute there one did contemplate snapping no, the shoe fairies came and fixed the sole compression, and the bald spot... hey pain doesn't bring out the best in anyone... well not that kind of pain. Instead one nodded in the affirmative.

Well (insert sporting shop here) are having a sale tonight and if you like we will swing by there and get you some. The heart did a little flutter at the prospect... until one remembered that sports shoes are rather dreary things. Except for that time the preferred brand and style produced that salmon pink colour... now there was a shoe to make you shudder... and it did. Every time one dragged them on, a little part of one died inside... mainly in shame and horror at having to go out in them.

So plans were made... gym, grocery shopping, lunch, snooze (which everyone knows is code for sex) and go out on our merry way to RPG night via shoes.

Of course the reality looked a little different...

First work called... while we were grocery shopping... trying to persuade Him to come in. An offer He declined... well more gave them an option they couldn't make work at any rate. We had lunch and a shower, and one of us scampered off to the air-coned bedroom all lubed and ready to go... and waited and waited and fell asleep. In fact by the time He made it to bed it was time to get up. That was when we found our hostess was also fighting a migraine... we commiserated quietly for a few minutes... before cancelling the evening.

Off we scampered to go shoe shopping... which is where some surprises were in store for us. First off His preferred brand and style was no longer available in the flame colour way He had been hemming and hawing over... it was now in the brightest, most lurid acid green. They are so awesome in an Incredible Hulk kinda way. The colour made Him hem and haw even more than the flame ones did, but for a different reason... in fact one had time to go and find a new pair of gloves.

Personally the shoe company stuck one small slave with lavender, grey and white. Why is it the only shoe company who produces a model to fit a woman with high arches and a broad foot insist on sticking to safe colours? Who chooses these crappy colours and thinks women will like them? Peers at His with an almost palatable envy. We finally made it to the checkout to find that the lavender monstrosities were no longer $239 less 20%, but a very agreeable $169. One of us is a very happy camper indeed.

So here we are very happy, apart from the migraine which is trying to make another run at one of us, proud owners of new sports shoes in colours neither of us like... well one really likes His... mollified by discounts. See happiness is a relative state...

And He might have completely forgotten about one in favour of some game he is playing... have no idea what time he came to bed after all of this...but he took one shoe shopping... at a sale... for sports shoes. Seriously, who could ask for more? J

A sweetheart deal

For a while now He has been eyeing off some Twisted Monk rope. The company does hemp rope in a variety of colours including a colour of the month. They also have an extensive choice of kits, thicknesses, colour ways and ends. If you have some time, check out their tutorials that cover everything from care of the rope to how to stow it.

The trouble is with buying online is that you never know quite what kind of quality you are getting... it is a bit of a punt when you order from people for the first time. Anyway The Stockroom is having a Valentine's Day Sale on a Twisted Monk rope kit at a very attractive price. It is a starter kit containing 2x 10', 1x 30' and a pair of safety shears. They have a choice of colours black, natural and red.

So He ordered a little of each... figuring if he liked it he could buy more...

Well it arrived today and it is beautiful rope. Hemp can be coarse unless it has been properly treated, but this rope is soft and silky. It also smells divine as it hangs in the study, a heady mixture of dyes, oils and natural fibres J

The only thing that is a little disappointing is the colour quality of the pictures on both of their sites. The natural is a deeper shade of olive, rather closer to a dried herb colour. And the red is a divine shade of blood red... the colour it starts to go as it dries. Having said that, colours like red and purple are the devils own to photograph and reproduce. We have no end of trouble with those two colours... for an assortment of reasons J

More conversations down the hole

You know, one said conversationally as He drove along, it is a constant source of amazement who reads the blog.

Hmmm?

Well most of the people who come to the blog are happy little anal pervs... which is to be expected... and the rest are slaves who seem to loathe and hate anal. They use it as a learning tool for what not to do, as far as one can tell. Sort of a oh hell no list if you will.

It's because most of them are masochists He replied, as though it was the most reasonable explanation.

Well if they like to be hurt, you would think they would be a bit more pro anal J

If the collar doesn't fit...

As one has mentioned before the trouble with exercise is that it makes you change shape. The trouble with the current programme is that it is heavy on shoulder work... it was done that way because they needed to get strong enough to provide support during abdominal work. Unfortunately because of the PCOS that little bit of extra male hormone in the body means that one can bulk up... a rare thing for a girl... and very quickly too.

None of this was a problem when one was going to the gym four days a week. The programme was designed to be heavy lifting one day, strip down programme the next. It was gruelling, but it prevented the muscles from growing and getting bulky. Now because of some seasonal variations to work shifts, one can only get in three times and it has ended up not back to back. The end result is growth... and a corking rate of it too. In the past few weeks since going back one is starting to get shoulders a first XV player would be proud of...

There is just one tiny little problem. With those shoulders comes the neck to join it all up and the collar is trying to choke one out in the night. It wraps its little metal hands around the throat and constricts it with all its might. Every time one moves or turns the head... there it is. And you know something? It doesn't make one think of Him at all... well not nice thoughts at any rate.

So one dutifully submitted the complaints to be informed that as it was one's own doing, it was up to one to pay for the new collar...

First off let one just say that this is the reason one doesn't get expensive collars... this will be the third one to date. Yeah not quite that romantic image of collared for life is it? Of course not being one to miss a chink, the fence did need to be tested a little...

So if one buys it then it won't be your collar and if that is the case... then one could elect to not wear it surely?

No, it would be mine, but you would have paid for it. And you will be wearing it.

Hmm... not quite the answer one was going for...

Discussing this with Him this evening one suggested going back to the gym on Tuesday/ Wednesday and Friday. That way it should strip down some of this muscle... 'cos the collar is driving one nuts... and to be honest one really doesn't want to play rugby.

Turning He said, but I was hoping that you were going to get enough upper body strength that you could take up pole dancing. I thought the pole could go there... indicating near the enormous windows that make the place like a goldfish bowl, hence blinds permanently down... and I could sit here while you entertain me.

That's it, starting next week... Tuesday/Wednesday it is. Honestly if He can't make sensible decisions then...

Flying

The rain started again with a vengeance at 2am... by the time one got up some of the lower roads were flooded already and making a critical decision one called work. The trouble is that if they close the road, like the other night, one has no way of getting home by public transport and there isn't so much as a motel in that area. So the day was spent doing other things...

Though He was a little miffed that one was going to get an extra day off...

After breakfast one was carted off to bed and somewhere in there He amused himself with one of the many floggers. See the trouble with collectors is that they are a compulsive breed. It doesn't matter what it is, collectors can't help themselves... though some do hone it down to a highly specialised area... the compulsion usually manifests itself in more areas than one. In His case floggers seem to be breeding at the same alarming rate as music, books, DVDs and games do.  

This time we did try it a different way... when aroused, masturbating and with endorphin levels flying... along with the flogger. In fact we even managed to grab a pic when He was just done. And that people is as pink as it gets... by the time one writes this it will all be gone L In some ways it is so sad... all that flogging and so little to show for it...

The memories of how it felt as it thumped across the skin, of how it caressed and contoured around in that rhythmic beat will linger for a little longer. And so too will the incredible orgasm with Him buried in one's arse...

But as with all things it will fade...

If only because at some stage the endorphins will stop flying and one will come back to the ground with a crashing, burning thud.

Think lunch and a visit to the gym are in order...

Australia Day

Today was that most beloved of days... a public holiday. And true to the tradition most people had plans, including one small slave. The rain had stopped long enough to allow some laundry, there was plans to blitz the place, cook dishes for the freezer while it was cool, find homes for things that have made special places on their own... it was a long list. It all depended on two things... the continuing cool weather and Him being asleep in readiness to go to work tonight.

Yeah you can almost see where this is going can't you...

First He arrives home as says I have a treat for you. Now the first thing one did was listen for promising rustling sounds... there weren't any. Next one looked for odd little bulges... odd as in different people... minds up. Seeing nothing of real interest one started to lose any interest at all. Realising He was losing his audience he announced, I'm pulling a sickie so I can spend the day with you.

The next thing to go not according to plan was the weather. Oh it stopped raining... and settled for humidity in the very high 80's. Standing still you sweated... doing things... water just gushed out of every pore. So after doing what had to be done, and rearranging the order of everything else, one retreated to the shower. Of course He got one in there... but to be honest it was worth it to not be in the sauna that is our climate at this time of the year.

So having pressed one into the tiles and forcibly inserted himself into one's arse, all the while asking if one had missed him...

You know in the interest of transparency one did have to say not really. Seems that might not have been the right answer... how are you supposed to work this stuff out... because all that did was make Him renew his endeavours to plumb the depths of one's arse before coming in it with a shuddering orgasm.

He thought he would be helpful and lube up the enema plug, insert it and help clean one out. So after firmly inserting it He turned it on... virtually full bore.

Want to know how to make your slave jump six inches? Do that...

So after brunch we settled in to move as little as possible. Oh one pottered around and got things done... they just weren't all the things one had planned...

Such is life... no one has ever gone to their deathbed wishing they had done more house work J

Late in the evening

The day was relatively uneventful... cooking, gym, a futile attempt to dry some clothes... everything is wet. Even the packet of Griffin's Gingernuts one opened last night were soft... and yes even dunked in tea they still felt wrong in the mouth. Normally those things will snap a tooth... and one has to hunt for the damn things as they are imported from New Zealand. It was not a pleasant sensation at all, though it did turn out to be prophetic L

He stumbled to the shower and one nipped in to join him... see occasionally things round here are voluntary if not terribly consensual... to wash his back. Hell one even threw in a good morning hand job. A favour He returned by pinning one up against the tiles and trying to fit his hand up one's arse. Well it felt like His hand... it may have only been most of it... all the while whispering something about preferring to cum up there. Hello... 6'... you could have stopped enjoying the hand job at any time... and everyone knows "stop that" is not a safe word... geeesh!

Later on He came in to say goodnight. Well that was the intent. What happened was He saw his favourite target, grabbed an ankle, and proceeded to spank it to a glowing colour. He has a nasty hard hand might one add. Rubbing the tender flesh one said thought you liked the poor thing. I do, it just looks better in pink. 

For the record nothing looks better in pink L

Nips and snippets

Anyway back to breakfast...

While He was getting up one of us scampered into the shower... yes not the safest place, but one does so love a hot shower... and he loomed in the doorway. It was at that moment one realised that all that was needed to make the shower much safer was a small L shaped plate... it was also the moment when one wondered why no one has actually made a lock for shower doors. Sharing the thought with Him he pointed out that one would have to come out eventually.

Nope... don't think so

You sure about that He asked?

Yep pretty much...

It was then that He stalked over to the sink and turned on the hot tap, causing icy water to blast from the shower head

Bastard!

So off we toddled for breakfast and grocery shopping, with just enough time to get back for a routine dental appointment. We did pause in our grocery shopping to visit a bottle shop for some supplies. It was where we found this... well how could you resist a bottle to try? As it turned out it was like a trip back to one's childhood as it tasted remarkably similar to the Lion Bitter one grew up with. Of course being British the family served it at room temperature... mind you in New Zealand it is hardly warm... and here we serve all beer icy cold.

It is worth noting at this point that it has been raining for a couple of days now... the heavy torrential kind that you get in a sub-tropical climate. By the time we left the dental appointment a storm front had moved in and one got a chance to take a quick snap of something very rare...

That people is surf. Well what passes for it round here, which is why having a Surf Life Saving Club is a bit of a giggle. The reason for the odd state is the island off the coast... the one you can't see due to the rain coming down so heavily that it is completely obscured.

And this is why the rest of the evening went a little cock eyed...

See it was roleplaying night so off we dutifully scampered in the storm to go to our friends, not realising that they were closing roads all over the place due to flooding. So we had no sooner got there, nibbled snacks and settled in than the phone rang. It was her mother to say the roads were being closed. And there we were...

Needless to say we hit the road pretty damn fast for a very hairy drive home.

And that was how we found ourselves home on a Tuesday night with a bored and restless Him.

So we are snuggled on the couch and His restless hands find those damn paddles from Histora... yeah one does so owe you two for those...

And that is how one found oneself being experimented on with "just a playful swat... to see what they feel like".

Here to tell you exactly how they feel...

Fucking painful is how they feel

Now if you will excuse one small slave there is some housework that needs to be done... homes found for things and all that...

Bright and early

Well it was certainly early at any rate. At 4.15am we were awoken by loud shouts and scraping noises... we lay there stunned and disbelieving. Then cursed the road crews that we assumed were responsible, yet again, for the god awful racket. Stumbling to the bathroom one noticed the inside of the flat looked like an 80's disco. The noise was deafening and the walls and surfaces danced with lights... it was a horrible flash back moment... particularly sober. Coming back to bed one peered out of the window to spy the cause of all the commotion.

There, stuck on the roundabout, was an enormous house. Yes people, a house. See here many of our Queenslanders are built on stumps. It allows air to circulate under them and makes them infinitely movable. So when someone decides they want to build something modern, they usually sell the house and it gets popped on the back of a truck, sometimes in two pieces, and transported to a yard awaiting a new block. The trouble is round here, as one has mentioned before, the roads are narrow in places... and it was a big house.

So one lay there, after slamming the window shut, secure in the knowledge that if they had got stuck on our roundabout, then they were going to have even more issues with the one a little further along... it has a shop with an awning. Sure enough one could soon hear the sound of metal clanging on metal... one assumes it was the men removing the street signs to give them enough room to move.

He gave up and got up... one of us is made of sterner stuff and went back to sleep. Actually it was nearly 9.00am before one emerged... well more stumbled... out of bed. Oh in time for brunch are we He quipped from the study. Don't be a hater one retorted. Wandering in clutching mouse... actually it was Tigger doing Count Dracula impersonations... one asked to use the computer to post on the blog... rather late and tardy. He relinquished it with minimal fuss... normally one has to do all sorts of debasing acts to get it. I'm going back to bed He announced. Wake me at a reasonable time... we might go out for breakfast.

This is a very promising morning indeed... though one is left to ponder is a reasonable time indicated by hunger... 'cos one is starting to feel a little peckish J

Of course all this promise took a left turn later on in the day... but more on that later... with pics J

Reprieved

We had such plans for today... well He did. The other one of us wanted to eat several meals and go to the gym. His plans coincided in that looking glass kinda way.... he was all for food and the gym, just for different reasons. See He wanted to try out nasty whappy things on one's arse while the blood was thin and flowing L

Of course what happened was we woke up to find the world dark and grey and pissing down with rain. A state that makes neither of us particularly energetic, in fact we both felt like we were crawling in slow motion. It was a state that in ones small slaves case was aided by the fact one simply hadn't eaten enough yesterday. Needless to say we started with breakfast... well a couple of them in the case of one's self.

Then He offered a day of sloth on the couch, cuddled up with some TV shows we needed to catch up on... a little late lunch and then gym. It was an offer too good to pass up on... particularly to a girl on her second cup of morning mouse... which was proving slow to work. Anyway, we played hooky together on the couch with His and her nests, while the rain swept across the sky in torrential gales. It was incredibly slothful and it made one feel so sinful.

Eventually one could resist the lure of the gym no more, even though the thought of nasty whappy things was not filling one with a thrill of girly anticipation at all. It felt more like being punished for being good. In fact as an incentive scheme it completely sucked... and then life stepped in. He started to get sick. Yes smug, relieved gloating is a bad thing... honest one does get that, but as one has no hope of ever getting the good slave trophy...

So leaving Him one scampered off to the gym for a couple of sweat drenched hours followed by lolling around in the sauna. When He picked one up he was an unfortunate shade, though not as green as when one left him. Nevertheless it was a quiet and uneventful night... safe is the word that comes to mind. Maybe upset tummies are the patron saint of slaves...

Target practise

Large chunks of this week have been spent contemplating the concept of friends and what that means for others. It all stemmed from a conversation on Tuesday night with our vanillas (who for the record aren't quite as vanilla as the term might imply... but that is a tale for another time) and little incidents during the last month. Today is an extension of that idea, but this is devoted to the bus tossers in our midst. We all have them on friends lists; those with unexpressed sadistic needs that find an outlet in friendship.

Let us consider an incident this week and the outcome shall we?

A picture is posted on Fet and you admire it, suggesting that symmetry might be better for next time. In turn they send a proposal for a red handprint competition to your owner. Hell they even turn it into an event that is slated for March so everyone can have a go. Yes that is right... in March several people are taking part in the 2012 Tushie Handprint Competition.

Now some of you are smiling... one can feel it through the computer screen... but there is a problem with this. Yes other than the fact that it is going to hurt like hell. See one small slave doesn't mark very much at all. It goes a promising shade of pink and then fades into obscurity.

The trouble is though that He is Scorpio... very Scorpio. They are competitive by instinct and add to that middle child syndrome... this is not going to go very well. In fact it is going poorly already. See He, like all twoo athletes, is in training and one small slave's arse is the target.

So far this week He has come at the poor defenceless little thing from every angle and combination. Every time one goes past out snakes His hand to deliver a stinging blow. Actually He's experimented a little as well... Thursday there was his belt... and it hasn't stopped there. Tonight there was a bite good night... that fucking thing hurt for the record... and left no mark L

The upshot of this... one small slave needs some nice friends. Now admittedly one has no idea what to do with them. And He reckons that one will get bored with them. But dammit one is willing to try. Anything has to be better than living in fear of the hand like this...

The other side

Every once in awhile we lose a member of our rag tagged travelling troop. Some don't make it from one board to the next. Others just disappear from public view preferring to keep in touch only with close friends. Some just sink back into the ether. It is like they never were.

You see their profiles and blogs as mute testament to their existence, but they are gone.

Sometimes they come back, but most never do. And you are left not knowing what became of them.

It is one of the hardest things to accept...

You always wonder what ever happened to...

See!

Proof that He is what one says...

*Though it is worth pointing out that we both verbal and threaten the cat... but it starts it.

What's going on?

There is an ongoing bit of drama on Fet at the moment... well there usually is, but this is mainly over that little club. In fact it is causing people to be removed from friends lists and others to be blocked. And although for some it is old hat it is still fascinating to a people watcher, mainly because of how the events are being interpreted by different people. See for some it is quite simple and for others... not so much.

To the simple camp it is about their house, their rules. This is a fine attitude to take... nice, clean and simplistic. Of course like all things simplistic it tends to overlook a couple of things. To paraphrase someone; you can't run a social club like a dictatorship. Well you can, but people are going to get unhappy. And it overlooks that the people who are on the receiving end are their friends.

Which brings us to an interesting point... what is a friend on a social networking site? Is it people you know in real time or is it people you have hung out with, argued with, disagreed with and giggled with... sometimes for years? See how you regard people on your friends list is going to dictate how you respond to the perceived unkindness of others. If you regard them like you would a friend in real life, then the chances are you will stand up for them, go to bat for them, tell them they are being stupid... to their face... and generally do those things you do for a friend.

Now if you just like hanging out with them online... then that is a different story altogether. Then you are far more likely to adopt the attitude of well... it's just drama. It will blow over... meh not getting involved. See very simple...

Until they come for you...

Then it gets a little harder to ignore.

Sinful

Today the little bus friend dropped off a Christmas present for one small slave. It was a batch of homemade chocolate biscuits. They are quite simply to die for... moist, crumbly, decadently chocolaty and rich beyond belief. Of course the two one had probably undid the last two hours in the gym... but oh gods they are so freaking good.

 Good enough to reinforce the friendship bond for at least another two months... if not more.

See everyone has a different way of defining friends... and what they mean to them. For some it is a willingness to stand side by side against the world... or at least the person who has pissed one of you off. Oh don't get one wrong... one absolutely expects that, but there is more. See in one small slave's books the ultimate criteria is would they bring you a meal if you needed it. To be blunt one defines friendship as a very food centric thing... Freud would have had a field day with one small slave J

So one sits here hunting down the last crumbs, with the smell of rich coco and butter lingering on the fingertips... secure in the knowledge that there is still a whole box of them in the cupboard. And best of all He won't want one, as she makes the moist kind he doesn't like.

It almost makes up for the njoy being back in place L

Make 'em Sqweel

In amongst all the nasty shit that arrived from America was this...

Now we had seen it in our travels and fondled it, and thought it might be interesting, so He threw it in the last shipment. Which is why one is now sitting here covered in water based lube and cum, with sore lungs, a really sore nipple and nibbling ice-cream as one types. How one got here is an entertaining story...

See it started innocently enough... scampering off to bed clutching the Sqweel. It was at that moment that He reminded one that some lube was recommended. That was a suggestion that ended with a five minute hunt for a non silicone based lube. Honestly one should do a review of lubes... there are that many of them lying around here, but one digresses... back to the Sqweel.

The implement:

• A hand held device that has a wheel of soft little silicone tongues
• Can be used with the tongues facing up or down 

The pros:

• Fits in the hand quite nicely
• Comes apart easily for cleaning
• Other wheels available
• Unlike a regular vibrator your whole hand doesn't end up vibrating 

The cons:

• Not as quiet as they would have you believe... on full speed it sounds like an electric beater
• A bit gentle for one's personal taste, but some may love it for that very reason 

So there one is liberally covered in lube... including parts of the anatomy that one thinks didn't actually need to be lubed... that water based stuff travels. Whispers... everywhere L Anyway there are all these little tongues flicking around merrily and feeling quite pleasant might one add. And then He came along and started to do really painful things to the nipple that was heavily abused the other night. Painful enough might one add that no Sweel was going to overcome the distraction... which was when it was tossed aside to fend for itself. Actually that was when it got its own back by spreading that damn lube all over the sheet like a slick... something that become relevant later.

Anyway in spite of Him one did manage to cum, while begging him to please stop hurting... a thing he completely ignored. Which is why after the orgasm and the feeling came back, one was huddled in a foetal position uttering expletives... something one has an almost inexhaustible list of... as He lay there looking smug. It was then that He pounced... and triggered that unfortunate little bit of programming. And that gentle reader is why the lungs are sore... no matter how fit you get, that scaring remains just waiting for an opportunity to make you bark like a dog.

He of course decided that it was a shame to waste a hard on and that was how one found oneself propped up on all fours being brutalised, in between coughing... something he swears feels great L It was also how one ended up covered in lube because that Sqweel left it everywhere...

So yes... the Sqweel. It performed quite well given the circumstances. It feels a lot better than some vibrators, and is a pleasantly different sensation. In fact one might even try it again... perhaps under better circumstances J

Aches and pains

The day started out without much promise... really early in other words. Refusing to give in one popped on the TV and drowsed for about an hour before falling into a deep sleep, lulled by the sound of gusting, torrential rain. In fact it was about 8.30 when the eyelids reluctantly cranked open again. So one shuffled out to the bathroom to make an unpleasant discovery... there was a very tender spot in one's anatomy...

It might have been the rough, brutal arse fucking that was delivered last night. The one that made one utter the prophetic words of shit that's going to hurt tomorrow. Why do things that feel so good at the time always come back to bite you in the arse later. It doesn't seem to matter if it is chocolate cake or sex. Always the body gets its own back L

So with lingering thoughts of abuse one finally cranked it up enough to trudge out the door to go to the gym... where one was given very explicit orders to not overdo it. Anyone witnessing that little discussion probably thought we looked like a loving couple... they couldn't feel the threatening hand on the scruff off the neck as He chatted to one small slave. Finally free from the hand of the oppressor one scampered off... to be good.

Half the fun of going to the gym is guessing what sport the older members used to play or do. Honestly it is rare to find people in the 50-60 range going to the gym without a life time of exercise habits compelling them. Usually you can tell by their bodies, how they carry themselves and the actual shape of them, what they did in a past life. A guy that one often chats to... well he did pick one of a street corner in his very sweet ride and give one a lift home one day... we actually live round the corner from each other... was in the boxing room.

As one watched he did this fabulous turtle movement... chin went down, neck disappeared into his shoulders... and one thought, ahhh ex boxer. He was showing someone a series of moves on the bag and after all these years he still has good hands. Mostly though it was fascinating watching a body slip into a stance guided purely by muscle memory... it was quite beautiful to watch. Umm... it was not perving... it was appreciation J

After that He took one to lunch, where one inhaled a rather decent burger and then he took one small and sweaty slave home for a shower. Sitting there all warm and relaxed, watching the rain skid across a slate grey sky, one realised there was a perfect place to experience all this... in bed. So scampering off to it one made a nest, colonising part of His doona, and drifted back to sleep. It was a very good day indeed J

Spelling things out

We are part of that weird and freaky group that subscribe to the whole can't leave theory. Now before you get your chaps in a cinch consider a few things first...

For us not leaving means...

You bloody well stay and fight it out until you reach a resolution.

You commit to whatever changes are needed.

You grow together and if it means that one small slave gets to do shit that there is zero interest in, then that is what happens... all one has to do is adjust. Graceful is a goal, not a prerequisite.

You adjust, you adapt, you mutate.

Maybe a better phrase is won't leave, but having tried and literally been unable to do it... can't is more accurate. Now there was whole process to getting to that point... we met, we became friends... it was all we could do as we were both with other people at the time. We flirted, we danced too close to the edge, we slipped and we fell into each other. We were passion and lust and we woke up and realised life wouldn't ever be the same even if we didn't do it... so we did. We tore strips off each other, we talked... about everything, we were brutal, we flensed each other. We were forever changed.... and there was no going back to who or what we were. We bonded with each other in a strange and hinky way...

See most people get together and as the old saying goes... men go into a relationship thinking they won't change and women go into a relationship thinking they will change him. The reality is that all relationships change you... regardless of gender. The minute you start to think about another person and their wellbeing you start to change. If you think that sounds too much like compromising, then you are in for a rude surprise... there is no escaping change in a relationship.

You change, you adapt, you mutate.

The difference is that in a consensual non-consent relationship, there's that oxymoron again, He gets to dictate the direction and many of the changes to one small slave's psyche. And He doesn't have to get permission to do it. It was given at the beginning... and seeing as we are being honest it wasn't exactly informed consent either. How could it be? We had no idea where this was going to lead... hence down the rabbit hole... indeed we still don't.

Now some would argue that like many abused people, one has no way to know that one is abused. And they are right. But having lived with someone who one would describe as abusive, all one can say is that this is very different...

Maybe He is just better at it.

Maybe He is art and finesse rather than overt violence.

Maybe it doesn't matter when we are together.

See this stuff is only complicated when you try and explain it to others... we swim along just fine.

We do not advocate, recommend or promote the ideas that others do this... in fact some of our group have blatantly told people to not even think about trying it. Beside none of us are the recruiting types... far too bloody insular by inclination J

Old chestnuts

Of all the great debates you can find online none are so hotly contested as the idea consensual non-consent. And quite rightly too... as an oxymoron it has to be up there with army intelligence. It is an utterly nonsensical phrase and we use it because no one can agree to anything better. This, considering most of the BDSM community (now there is another oxymoron) can't actually agree on almost anything, shouldn't be such a surprise.

It is a bit like the idea of not able to leave... it has no universal meaning and very different nuances. For us it means that one has been utterly brainwashed into believing that there isn't anything that can't be worked out. And considering that one has a long history as a complete commitmentphobe and serial leaver is a spectacular bit of brainwashing. And there is another one of those little buzz words that seems to get peoples latex chaps in a complete lather... contemplate that visual for a minute...

Either way though those ideas all end in one place... the great amputation debate. And it always gets ugly. On one side you have people who are usually in long term relationships saying yeah it works for us and has done for X years. On the other hand you have someone who is either young, old, disillusioned, unowned, weekend warrior, fanatical defender of their way... or some combination of the options. You never find these debates happening amongst those who are just getting on with it to the best of their abilities at the time. Strange that...

And there is a reason for that gentle reader....

No one has ever gone into a relationship thinking how long before s/ he amputates something. Now historically some perhaps should have, but you don't. Nor do you go into one thinking, but they might... and if you do then maybe you need to reconsider... before moving in might one add. No you go into any relationship thinking this is the one... or at least... this might work.

All those horror stories are the department of your friends and relatives. They are the ones who look at your partner and go... WTF are they thinking? The person has axe wielding murderer written all over them. Now in most cases they are wrong... not always, but mostly. What has happened is their emotional filters perceive this change to your life as a bad thing and subsequently that colours your intended the same way.

The more one reads the great limb chopping debates, the more one is starting to suspect something similar happens with people when their ideas of how relationships are done are challenged. They feel threatened and react just like your friends do. Only it is magnified because in real life people generally keep those sorts of thoughts to themselves, and on the net they don't have to. It's not like they are actually going to lose anything... well nothing real at any rate. So all that hysteria they are feeling comes out in the deafening cry of but... what if s/ he (insert horror story/ imaginary what if scenario of choice here).

And they wonder why we can't hear them...

Casting a vote

For more years than one cares to remember there have been TV ads for a brand of fly spray... these days it includes also includes crawling insects... that have revolved around a rather repellent character named Louie the Fly. It even has a rather catchy jingle that most Australians could probably sing better than they could the national anthem... which says a lot 'cos most people think that Waltzing Matilda is the national anthem... but one digresses. Back to the damn fly...

For a while now they have conducted a big campaign to save Louie from being retired permanently. There have also been strong accusations that the whole thing was a cynical hoax on the part of the advertisers... quelle surprise. Meanwhile as the media storm... that would generally make any advertiser salivate just thinking about... carries on viewers have been made to make the hard choice. They have had to log on and vote yes or no on his death.

And all one could think when watching this was, why isn't there an option for don't care?

Well for those that do, Louie was given a reprieve today. Guess it wasn't such a black Friday for some after all...

Personally one came home and found this on the computer... 

Why isn't there a no option for that? L

Thy name is not Doctor

He came home this morning to find one doing a spectacular white rabbit... some mornings are just cursed like that... and offered to give one a lift. An offer one jumped at because even though the air-con has decided to pack it in once more for summer, 20 minutes with the windows open is still better than over an hour in air-conditioned bus. Beside it also meant we had nearly an hour and a half together... beams happily.

It was in the middle of this happiness that He casually mentioned that the ride was not free...

In fact immediately after breakfast one was shuffled off to bed for a "back adjustment". And He made one beg him for it... which is kind of a cheek given the circumstances. Sighs well it wasn't all bad... one did get to cum. Something that frankly one had been too scared to try since the disc went out. Well if the back could do this during bra removal; imagine what it could do during an orgasm.

So we pulled up at work, running late... it was the motif for the day really... and one hopped out of the car saying thank you for the lift.

You already have He replied.

Oh, does this mean we are even?

He drove off laughing...

Bastard!

It was worth a try...

Turning up the heat

Yesterday at 7.30am it was already it is 26C (79F) with 83% humidity. And there was a man in the kitchen cooking bacon... squeeee... naked. Needless to say with an expected high of 33C (88F) that, and the Horizontal Nadu, was pretty much the highlight of that day... though it did end with anal sex.

Honestly one has a strange relationship with pain killers... most of them the body won't tolerate or they simply don't work. Usually a drink does a much better job. Knowing this He had one make a couple, drink them and then put the theory to the test. Yes that's right He did the completely irresponsible thing and loaded one up with a couple of Martinis, rather than pain killers. The back relented enough to be bent over the kitchen bench... well it was more shoved as He swept things out of the way... and again in the shower as He had his wicked way with a strangely cooperative arse. Bet it won't be so bloody obliging when that butt plug finally gets jammed back up there again L

Unfortunately this morning did not start out so auspiciously. Nor did it end so well. No this morning started with similar temperatures, a blinding migraine and nausea so bad one had to forgo morning mouse and take anti-nausea medication. Then wait for that to work before one could actually take the migraine meds. It was 10am before one could actually smell morning mouse and not gag... well too much.

But the back seems to be on the mend. It allowed one to do a few domestic jobs... though not as many as actually need to be done. One can now sit in this chair and type without needing pain killers to do it. 

Yep things are looking up...

He of course is convinced it is all his doing...

Position #3

This is the Horizontal Nadu...

It allows complete comfort for the lower back while enabling one to colonise as much of the bed as possible J

Small successes

Before you get excited at the prospect of being returned to normal viewing on here... don't. The back has not miraculously healed and one small slave is currently the most boring creature on earth. Hell even the cat is steering clear... cats don't do boredom. No the most exciting event thus far is that today one found a position that was comfortable and didn't require drugs to achieve it, and snoozed soundly, waking only to find a better show to accompany that state.

Oh and Satan's little helper, the postie, has been and delivered nasty, whappy things from miserable little shits friends in America and a collection of toys from the Fun Factory for Him to use with his stockade... the one currently propping up a wall in the study. There are still a couple of things that are AWOL in the postal service, but one has no doubts that they will turn up L Oh and for the record one small slave did not demand any of those paddles... He forced one to make enquiries on his behalf.

Meanwhile He is amusing himself with  Lego Star Wars 3 on the Wii. It seems even He elicits no joy from making one scream when it is that easy. 

Actually avoiding those paddles is the silver lining in all of this...

Hmmm... wonder how long can this go on for?

The other side of the coin

Now over the years there have been some spectacular encounters with "our own kind" when at work and out and about. In fact some of them have made it to the blog. The rude, the indiscrete, the slightly insane and the wrong ones have at any rate. Today one met the other kind.

People who seemed perfectly normal and capable of a conversation. A couple you wouldn't mind going out with for a drink and a chat.

There is just one tiny, little complication...

They're Gorean.

As painless as possible

Well today one lingered on the lounge no longer and went to work. Before we get to that though one would just like to thank some people for making it possible...

Thank you to both Him and his mother for the lifts to and from work. The back thanks you too... from the bottom of its... well something. Not too sure what a back would thank from... anyway one digresses.

One would also like to thank a couple of the major drug companies for their contributions. Whatever people may say about your products, and the fact that many of your products have a 50% failure rate when given to the population... when it comes together your shit is awesome J

Work was pretty cruisey... that is to say one abused one's limited powers and got someone else to do the nasty stuff... like the actual manual component of the job. Personally one pottered around, chatted to people, got them to buy more than they actually wanted to and did top up orders. Which means one generated more paperwork for the manager, who had unfortunately drawn the short straw and been lumbered with working the weekend. Sighs life is good, and maybe she will think twice about guilting one into coming to work next time J

And now back to Bab5 one goes

Oh and the lounge; soft, squishy, lovely, leather lounge whom one loves so

Snack foods... there needs to be snack foods...

Limbo

The day started late, very late. It is amazing what muscle relaxants and prescription pain killers can do for a girl's beauty sleep. Mind you don't look too beautiful when you wake up.... more sort of bleary and puffy and in so much pain you are doubled over. The thing is you can't stay that way otherwise you sort of lock into position. See all those times your mother said if the wind changes you will stay looking like that was sort of right J

It is official, the disc is probably bulging... which is why one has sciatica all the way down to the ankles, on both sides, and look pregnant. Of course one had to sit in a chair for an hour to get that diagnosis. Something that one did point out to the doctor was really adding salt to a wound. He, as a bad back sufferer, laughed. You know after all these years our little interactions do nothing to change one's initial impressions that he is a sadist.

Anyway today was spent curled in a foetal position on the beloved leather lounge. Although all advice is to lie on a floor with your feet up, all that does is let the back freeze up and then one is left to do this sort of inelegant scramble. It looks for all the world like a bug trying to right itself. So one went with what didn't hurt... at all. In fact when one stood up the back almost felt normal. Right up until one went to do something... then it was short lived.

So one small slave was stayed on the lounge like a good girl... and got on with the annual Babylon 5 marathon and gently snoozed through the afternoon.

This is driving one nuts and it is only day two L

Breakfast at Tiffany's

One of the great joys of the net, and Fet in particular, is the endless source of entertainment it provides when one small slave is sick and in pain. It is like having access to an unrelenting supply of movies... and one does so love old movies. Often the entertainment is not intentional, but the end result is the same. Now it should be pointed out that entertainment doesn't necessarily need to be the laughter kind. It can be the more serious, what is this bug under the microscope kind.

See group dynamics are fascinating... and so are social experiments. And Fet has an abundance of both. This is in part because of the way it is set up... it is like a boulevard of jewelry stores and you can freely gaze in the window without having to go in. And just as anyone is free to browse they are free to start a group and it can be pretty much of their own design. You don't have to jump through any hoops other than clicking a few buttons. This may account for some of the more bizarre groups that form, but that is a story for another time...

This is about a particularly interesting social experiment and how people are responding to it. One of the newest contenders to the Fet line up is a group that one finds... disturbing. And it takes a lot to disturb one small slave.  You can feel the fun starting already can't you J

Now over the years people have likened our group to a clique... and one would be the first to say yes we are. We have evolved over time... way too long a period of it in one or two cases... and we do like to tuck the odd person under our wings as we travel along. We hang out online because great distances separate us and it is the only way we can stay in touch... and we kinda like each other, which is why we are still together after all these years. The downside is we are so cliquey that we often repel people... we make them feel not "one of us" at all... in fact we make them feel like the alley cat in the movie. It often causes problems for both our members and those that want to join alike... but this isn't about that.

This is about what happens when you go the other way. When you go out of your way to make people feel like "one of us". What happens when you embrace the lost, the lonely, the dispossessed and the disenfranchised, rather like Holly Go Lightly scooping up that cat, and give them shelter? Well one suspects that you have either started a church or are on the way to forming a cult.

The definitions of a cult are many and varied, but generally a cult follows certain paths. They usually have certain key features too...

• A charismatic leader that has been on the outside because of their beliefs
• Active recruiting
• Exclusivism 
• Love bombing
• Fear and intimidation
• A reporting structure
• Information control
• Time control

So let's look at the processes of this new group shall we...

A person wandered the halls of Fet for some time. By all accounts this person was quite charming and yet they couldn't find their niche. They were too high protocol for most groups, didn't actually own anyone because by their own admission no one had ever come up to their exacting standards, and well frankly... they disturbed a lot of people with their rather extreme beliefs and apparent need to be worshiped.

Finally, after a failed coup in another group, they started a group for friends and set certain stipulations... everyone had to be friends and they had to be willing to contribute by joining in and starting threads. Then they encouraged them to make a lot of noise, which showed up on peoples' feeds, so that their friends would join the group. Next they added a reward system for good members by making them mods. Later on they contemplated incentives for those who manage to start threads that go past the 100 mark... no small feat in a tiny group.

They made the group exclusive... not by invite which would be sensible, but by making members prove their worth. To stay in the group they have to be an active member who follows all the rules. That is when they added some rather vague and contradictory rules... and ignored any pleas for clarity. Next they took advantage of this opportunity to add to the feelings of being part of the group by heaping praise on those special enough to get it... however vague and contradictory it might be. And then they kept tightening the friendship requirements... not just friends of friends, but friends of the mods, and then two of them, and then from before joining the group...

Then they encouraged participation by allowing people to bring in beefs and topics from other places under the guise of discussion, so long as their take was exclusively for the group... to not allow others a chance to enjoy it without being a group member. It helps with the bonding process to find commonality... even if it is a simple as oh yes saw that too. It is particularly successful if you insist people support each other. Telling people how special they are by memo and in threads helps this along... as does praising those who are doing well lavishly and holding them up for others to see. It makes the chosen people feel like they belong and are special, while making others feel like they want to be them.

Oh and of course they took time to castigate those who weren't doing it right as well J

The next thing they did was set up is a place for public executions and then conducted counselling sessions in private by memo. This is when the leader uses personal and private information that has been gleaned from previous correspondence with the people in question, to help show them the error of their ways.  And they didn't miss any opportunity to change the rules on a regular basis to suit their design, and keep people guessing and a little uncomfortable.

Next they encouraged those who felt abused to come forward and report their abuser. It is important that you are seen to be dealing with those more aggressive members. And they dealt with them publicly so justice could be seen being done. Of course next they practised a little revisionist history by removing any trace of it... you don't want such nastiness in public... it's not seemly. Besides all you need is the memory of it...

After that they removed the public executions and tried to find a way of doing it privately. The small quiver of protest over this led them to start doing it quietly. People just log on to find X has left the group. The leader of the group also went noticeably quiet when people started to question that process and of course the worst offenders just disappeared. Sometime silence is not only golden, but a very effective control technique. The one thing you can't have is people questioning your authority... even if there are mods, they are but an instrument of your will... not as a protection for the members as claimed.

Oddly enough for many the time control aspect takes care of its self. In the effort to make the grade there is little time for other things and very little time to actually consider what is going on. Discussions may lack depth, but they are generated so fast that no one has time to notice. And the pumping pace extols people to try harder and think less.

Now all of this is going on and what are the members doing... oh sucking up in a way that is quite disturbing. Even those who are feeling in their heart of hearts that things are not quite right are doing nothing more than withdrawing into themselves, as they contemplate what is going wrong.

And those that are dissenting? Oh they are disappearing in the night...

So why is one small slave spending time on this bit of drama you may be wondering... apart from pain making her spectacularly grumpy? Well there are some questions that one can't figure out the answer to...

Is all this similarity to that list an accident or is it instinctive the way it seems to be with someone who goes on to batter their partner? Or worse is this a deliberate, calculated act on their part?

Why does no one in that group seem to be aware of that happy creepy vibe that is starting to emanate from it?

Why aren't the aware ones listening to that voice inside of them... 'cos we all know that while that thing is like a small, yappy dog... it has a nasty habit of being right.

Why does the need to belong so often seem to triumph over the need to ask some smart questions... like how long before I disappear?

You see questions without answers make that little dog inside of one small slave start to whimper and howl... far easier to let it out L

Day four

Since the arrival of the stockade one has had a migraine... hence so much quality time on Fet. Finally today (on day three) it had cleared enough (read one could tackle morning mouse without gagging) that one decided to venture back to the gym to give the body a different type of pain to take its mind off things. Often the endorphins pumping around give the body enough of a boost that it will get rid of the last of a migraine you see. Well that was the plan.

Actually that was part of the plan. The idea was to go bounce some weights around, come home clean up the bombsite that has emerged after three days of aggravated neglect, have some wild sex, maybe a snooze and get up later on to do some cooking when it was cool enough. That was the whole plan. Of course as always reality took that slightly skewif quality that plans do around here.

Oh one made it to the gym... to be greeted by Mr Insensitive enquiring how one spent the New Year. Quietly one replied, praying for this to be the sum of our chat. Yeah for the record prayers don't get answered... or he doesn't answer the prayers of agnostics... which you would think he would do... good PR and all that. Really he said, I spent it at a rather good lifestyle party. Inwardly one groaned while replying that's nice in the most bored voice one could muster. He took the hint... that or the fact one was taking his unused weights to load onto the press made him shut up. Either way the rest of the workout progressed without conversation.

So home one scampered, feeling much better...yeah one should have seen it coming really. Hauling off wet gym gear, one undid the bra, ripped it off while still slightly bent over and stretched. The back went and one stood there semiparalysed. It's done this before... what they inaccurately describe as slipping a disc... of course the last times one followed the doctor's advice and spent the week on the floor. Not this time... according to the latest, the best thing to do is take drugs and kept moving. Which seems to work much better... though it means you can't actually lie down and the tummy pops out like a pregnant person's...

Of course it chose this moment, when one was in the middle of three loads of washing, making lunch and about to scamper into the shower, to do this. And into the middle of the chaos in stepped His mother to show us the Christmas gifts she had got from his brother... and she stubs her toe on the bloody stockade. It was on the lounge floor because one small slave had been too sick to find it a home... it was on the clean up list. Now she has studiously, thus far, managed to ignore the rack on the bedroom wall full of nasty slappy, hitty things. And the proliferation of sex toys that seem to breed in odd places. It is a little harder to ignore a stockade when you have just walked into one.

What's this...ohhhh?

It's my Christmas present He said... like that explained everything. Particularly the metal collar and cuffs attached to it. Turning with bright inquisitive eyes as one hobbled into the room she started to say...

Don't say a word one shot in the gap... the back has just gone and one can barely stand up...

Darting past she grabbed the dishes and said well I'll get these out of your way and toddled off.

Well if she didn't know we were kinky she does now He said.

Sighs family life... it is never normal around here.

Later, as one was propped up in His upright computer chair, he wandered into the study. You know He said conversationally, I'm starting to think you are actually trying to do this New Year the way you started... avoidance. Three days of migraine and now your back has gone out. There are 360 days to go... you are going to end up in that stockade on at least one of them.

He thinks he has a challenge... one small slave has three types of meat and an assortment of vegetables to prep before cooking commences. A load of washing on the line that one is a little unsure how one is going to get in. And probably an interesting chat coming up with His mother the next time we are out together L

Summer maid

For some reason He thinks that house work is better when you are dressed for the occasion L Needless to say in a climate like ours that isn't the case. So when He went to America he came back with presents, a set comprising of a frilled collar and cuffs to be precise, and a pair of panties to match.

Bastard!

Why can't we get along?

It is the war cry of both groups and individuals... usually when they are in a situation where they should be taking a stand. See the whole idea of getting along is a fallacy, particularly in groups on the net. Why you may be wondering is it not going to happen? Well the answer is very simple... imagine getting a group of strangers off the street, shoving them in a room and walking off saying play nice... as you leave them with no real consequences for their actions. How long do you think that is going to last before shit happens?

In some ways groups online are no different from doing just that thing... and usually with very similar results. If you look at the average board there is a huge variety of relationships, language styles and beliefs. So the first thing they do it talk in an endeavour to get to know each other. And they are all talking about stuff that is important to them and that is interesting to them. Yeah you can almost see where that one is going can't you?

Now, every once in a while someone comes along and thinks the solution to this is to start a group for friends... and boy are they the quickest way to lose them. See if you take a group of people who know someone who knows someone, the minute there is any contention you are going to have party lines forming. And sides being taken and butt hurties all over the place. Oh what you thought because you were friends it wouldn't be like that? Think again you poor, sweet, deluded fool.

It's going to be worse if the group is smaller and someone has tried to cap it in some way. When you make people compete for space... it always gets ugly. Why? Well not only are people territorial, but they want their friends in that group. Oh no space... let's start a fight to make a little room. Oh they aren't quite like us... let's kick them out... that will free up a place. Before long it is going to get brutal... rather like "Highlander". And don't think that the leadership won't be challenged frequently either; if you make a place competitive... well some people are very competitive.

What is really going to add to the pressure to a group like that is not just the friendships, but the social splits along who is owned and who isn't quite so owned. Why you may be wondering? Well you see although they all know each other and about each other, they really don't understand each other at all. They have no terms of reference. And the only way they can get them is to duke it out amongst themselves... oh and there we are, back to butt hurties again.

See ultimately the O/p crowd hang out in their own group for a reason. It is so they don't have keep having those get to know you disagreements again and again. We have a common reference point and although we all practice different styles of relationships, there are some points of commonality that we don't have to explain to each other. Silly things like we don't have hours to spend online, that our owners are the law in our households, that we aren't really going to be answering to anyone but them... the list goes on and on, but you get the idea. Usually in our group the only issues we have are with those who are not in our demographic at all. And they are always the ones who go stomping off whining the loudest when we point out to them you are not our people. Strange that... but back to friends all getting along...

Long term that pressure cooker is going to produce some other interesting side effects too... See the only way you are going to minimise the fallout is to make the group very homogenised and that has issues too. It ultimately leads to a form of fatigue... without new blood a group soon withers and dies because after a while you all know each other's positions on everything. Or worse you end up only chatting about safe things... like cooking. You see in this world there are worse things than not all getting along... and that is getting along J

The New Year

As one writes this He is happily sitting amongst an enormous mound of packaging material... looking for all the world like a slightly demented pack rat... putting together his stockade. The thing is like Meccano for sadistic men. It even makes an impaler... something the site didn't mention.

In fact the only thing saving one small slave from spending the day stuck on it is the fact that it is already 25 (77) degrees with an expected high of about 30 (86).

Now they say you should start the New Year as you intend to carry on... could avoidance be in the cards? 'Cos that would be kinda peachy J

Happy New Year everyone